


An ill-conceived trip to Jotunnheim

by OkieDokieLoki



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Poor Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkieDokieLoki/pseuds/OkieDokieLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-After his coronation goes horribly wrong, Thor and his companions take a trip to Jotunnheim where Loki pays the price, learning that he was never as he seemed, even to himself. Forced into an arranged marriage for peace, will he ever come to terms with his heritage and his new place in life or will the weight of being a monster drive him to the edge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An ill-conceived trip to Jotunnheim

“Allfather. You look weary.” The sarcasm dripped from the Frost Giant’s fangs. He shifted, Mjölnir humming in his eager hand, bloodlust still pumping through his veins. His glorious battle, weaving the tales that their great-grandchildren would relay to future generations - How Thor, Loki, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three had laid waste to the remaining Giants of Jotunheim - had come to an abrupt end at the entrance of the King of Asgard.  
His father, Gungnir in hand and Sleipnir prancing, did look tired, though it was probably of being an overbearing father, not from being king. “Laufey. End this now!” he commanded.  
Laufey cocked what would have been his eyebrow, the scars that were carved into his hideous face stretching uglily. “Your boy-” the beast began. Thor flinched and spat, disagreeing with the beast calling him a boy before lunging forward, his hammer singing her sweet song. His younger brother grabbed his arm, stopping his motion, much to his displeasure. “Sought this out,” Laufey concluded, his blood colored eyes narrowing dangerously.  
“You’re right. But these were the actions of a boy, treat them as such.” Odin’s voice was harsh and commanding as he treated with the king of monsters. “We can end this together, here. Now. Without any blood shed.”  
The Frost Giant leaned forward quickly, causing all the warriors, Jotunn and Aesir alike raise their weapons. “How do you suggest we do that, Allfather?” The monster smiled wickedly.  
Odin’s gaze flickered towards him and his brother, calculating and cold, before turning back to the looming giant. “I propose a diplomatic solution that would benefit all parties.”  
The king of the frozen waste said nothing, grinding his teeth together. “A royal marriage,” he said slowly in his kingly voice. “Your son and mine.”  
Odin shifted in the saddle on which he sat, his single, piercing eye narrowed as he watched the Jotunn mull the offer over. The prince flinched at the proposal. Him: Thor, first prince of Asgard, soon to be King, married to an icy Jotunn monster that loomed over him and cared not for anything that he held dear? He thought not.  
“I accept your offer, but I will need time. In three days hence, there will be a royal wedding binding the house of Laufey and the house of Odin. Until then, this realm is shut.”  
“Father!” he interjected.  
“You!” his father hissed loudly, “Have lost your right to speak.” His tongue turned to lead in his mouth. “Heimdall!” Odin ordered.  
“Wait! Allfather.” Laufey intoned, his voice growing dangerously low. “You’re forgetting something. There is something of mine that I want returning.”  
“The Casket is not returning to Jotunnheim,” his brother hissed, emerald eyes narrowed menacingly. “You will never touch it while you still breathe.”  
“I do not mean the Casket of Ancient Winters.” The monster’s eyes roved over the slender frame of his younger sibling almost lustfully. “I mean my promised eldest child.”  
“Heimdall!” Odin called again, the rainbow light streaming down through Yggdrasil. Faster than the lightning that Mjölnir summoned, Laufey’s large, freezing hand, reached out and snatched Loki from behind him.  
His brother shouted, reaching out to him as the Bifrost pulled them apart, left behind among the Giants.  
_______________________________________________________________  
The darkness was welcome. It matched his mood. The last few hours had been filled with unbearable pain as everything he had ever known was stripped from him and newness was added to his broken form. The dark kept him from seeing, from recognizing the truth. The truth that he was the prince of monsters, the very monsters Thor had vowed to hunt down and slay. Every. Last. One.  
And he was one.  
The realization began to set in when he had been grabbed by that warrior. He had been caught unaware, stupidly not paying attention to his surroundings in the middle of battle. When he had felt the cold, it had seeped into his very bones. The deep blue, the scarification that spread chased the ice in his veins, had felt surprisingly comfortable, the exposed limb feeling almost warm in the blizzard that their battle had stirred.  
“Loki,” the deep, gravely voice of the king of the monsters intoned in the dark somewhere behind him. The Frost Giant - his true father, apparently - gently touched his exposed shoulder. He flinched in response, his skin, though hardened and lacquered through his transfiguration, overly sensitive. “There is much you must wish to know. You must have questions.”  
He gritted his teeth, accidentally drawing blood in the process, the new fangs slicing his gums, tongue, and inner cheeks. He was a monster, doomed to die at the hand of the very man he was raised beside, the man that he loved. He had no questions for the Frost Giant king, only for the Norns and their cruelty.  
_____________________________________________________________  
His child, the one he had borne but had not raised, was distraught and depressed. The sight of the small giant, sitting in the darkness, broke his heart. This tiny being held so much potential with in him; his dark, flowing locks, and stunted growth was caused by the seidr that chased through his body. It had been so long since one like his eldest had walked among the Jotnar. The last had created the Casket of Ancient Winters and was twice the height of the reborn Frost Giant before him. Loki was powerful, maybe even powerful enough to challenge the will of the oppressive Allfather.  
“Loki,” he murmured, “There is much you must wish to know. You must have questions.” The child did not answer, though his jaw worked in his silence. He sighed, frustrated. This was not how things were supposed to go.  
He turned and left, unable to bear the sight of his son, in his newly restored perfection, wallowing in such deep grief. Odin would be hearing about this.  
______________________________________________________________  
“Why did you not tell him, Allfather?” the large giant growled. “He is despondent, depressed. Not moving, not speaking, not eating.”  
“It is not my people that have the reputation of being -”  
“YES!” the king of the Jotunn bellowed, “YOU DO!” He inhaled sharply and began again softly. “We have been at war for thousands of years, Allfather. Each of our peoples is a beast and a monster to the other. You took my son with the knowledge of his heritage, of his parentage, and raised him Aesir. Were you ever going to tell him?”  
“Yes,” he responded truthfully. “After Thor’s coronation. That, however, did not occur, did it?”  
“I had no hand in that!” Laufey hissed. “There are spies in the House of Odin. A man that had your skin but had the face of my beloved Farbauti.”  
“Loki.” The realization hit him. He had made a mistake in regards to his youngest, his adopted son. The boy should have known, he should have been raised knowing who he truly was. He and Frigga, in all their wisdom, had only wanted to make him feel wanted, make him feel like he belonged.  
“Yes, Loki.” The Frost Giant ruler bared his teeth. “And now his destiny is being fulfilled, as you foresaw it, and he refuses to acknowledge that he is even alive.”  
“Thor is equally opposed. He still sees your child as his brother.”  
The image within the scrying bowl shifted as a boom sounded. Laufey had slammed his rather large fist onto the table where his vessal sat. “Whose fault is that, Odin All-seeing?” the Jotunn hissed sharply, breaking the connection with another blow to the table.  
________________________________________________________________  
Three days. Three days and his life had changed. Three days previous he was to be King. He had his little brother. He had lead glorious battle on Jotunnheim. And now, the throne was further away than ever. His brother was to be his spouse. That same spouse that was a monstrous Frost Giant. Whom he had never seen outside of his Aesir form.  
“Thor.” A warm, soft hand touched his shoulder, brushing his cloak gently. “Please. This is Loki, whom you love. No one else.”  
“Mother,” he murmured, turning to face her. She looked beautiful, her hair bound up in front, while tumbling down her back in golden waves over her silvery robe. Her eyes, however, told a very different story. They were red rimmed from crying. While she was his biological mother, she was truly more Loki’s mother than his. He took after Odin, of that he was certain. Wouldn’t it be true that his once-brother took after their mutual mother, with his talent for magic and love of books and knowledge?  
He leaned in and kissed her cheek chastely. “Thank you, Mother,” he whispered.  
Her hand gripped his arm firmly. “Be kind to him, Thor. These last few days have been hardest on him. He truly has taken your punishment from you. That is love, Thor. So, please, treat him with kindness and give him the love that he deserves. Beneath his new exterior, he is still Loki.”  
He gave a small smile and followed his mother into the Grand Hall and his destiny.  
__________________________________________________________________  
The affair was small, presided over by his Mother, the Goddess of Marriage, his Father, the Allfather, and the ruler of Jotunnheim, the father of his once-brother and his now spouse. The spouse that he had not seen more of that a single blue finger tipped with a wicked ebony claw, and the hint of black hair hidden beneath a veil that was supported by what appeared to be two, very small horn buds.  
The voice that emerged from the shroud sounded just like his younger sibling, though filled with uncertainty, duty, and shame. It was small, murmuring and resigned, contrasting his seemingly booming voice. The height of the white covered figure was correct, only slightly shorter than himself. The veil did little to hide the outline of the blue form, still slender and lean, though maybe a bit sharper about the edges than before.  
Vows were given. Words were said. Rings exchanged. Hands bound. The being, shrouded in white beside him, was no longer his brother but his spouse.  
Loki, out of fear or shame, retreated to their rooms, forgoing the wedding feast. While part of him wanted to run after his now life-partner, he knew that the new Jotunn needed space. And there was still the consummation that awaited the pair of them. That was expected of them, he was told by his father. It would result in a child, Loki able to carry and nurture a child through something known as the Heat.  
It was not something that he was particularly looking forward to for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost in his mind was that Loki was raised as his brother and he still loved him as a brother and nothing more. He was also, well, a man, as was evidenced by his deep voice and the glimpse of the angular body through the shroud. Lastly, and abhorrently, he was a Frost Giant, a monster. A monster that he had tried to eradicate from the Nine.  
_______________________________________________________________  
The night swallowed him up, the stars blinking at him through the darkness, reminding him that, while he had changed, the world around him had not. He closed his eyes, wishing that the throbbing ache in his brow would vanish. It wouldn’t, he knew, until the damned horns finished growing. He exhaled, wishing the last three days had never happened.  
Screaming was what he remembered mostly, and pain. It was later that Laufey had shared the process with him, melding their minds as only the Jotunn can. The Aesir body writhed, thrashing as deep navy blue spread over the limbs and swirled about the chest, clothing being torn off by sharpening claws and angling joints. The markings of his house blossomed from the hardening flesh, covering accentuated elbows, hips, clavicles, cheekbones. The short, ebony hair grew, flowing from the scalp as small, grey horn buds erupted along the hairline. Teeth sharpened and lengthened into fangs, eyes bled into a striking ruby. Feet shifted, allowing the toes to lengthen slightly, claws to grow, to grip the ice that coated every last inch of their realm. The small Jotunn screamed again, curling around his frame as his organs changed, shifting his diet, his circulation, his temperature, his sexuality. Creating him anew.  
He had yet to look in a mirror, that mental image of his shifting body the only vision that he had now of his monstrous form. The night made him feel better. It was cool, unlike the Great Hall which was so hot he felt faint through the entire ceremony. That’s all he was now - an icy monster, doomed to live in the night. Tears, hot and prickly fell from his eyes as he raised his hand, looking at the band it possessed and the cobalt hideousness that surrounded it.  
_______________________________________________________________________  
“LOKI!” he bellowed, stumbling a bit from his overindulgence at his wedding feast. “WHERE ARE YOU?” He ranged about the apartment, the one that he shared with his monster of a brother-wife-spouse. Spouse.  
His stumbling steps led him from room to room. The library, small in comparison to the main library of Asgard was filled with Loki’s most treasured possessions, though no Loki. The small, private dining hall was likewise empty. The bathing room, bed chamber, and parlor yielded the same result. However, there was a slight chill that clung to the air. A breeze rustled the thin curtains that separated the balcony from the bedroom. “Loki?” he whispered.  
“Go away, Thor,” came the response from his brother’s familiar voice. “You do not want me. Especially not like this.”  
His footsteps, straightening out at the sound of the younger being’s voice, led him through the billowing curtains. The beauty of the night surrounded him, revealing a small, angular form, thick ebony hair shifting across an uncovered back. Thin, silver lines were illuminated in the moonlight and were, much to his surprise, rather beautiful. The form, revealed after the veil had been discarded, was angular, the joints appearing emphasized. It was not feminine in the slightest - in fact, it was clearly masculine with it’s broad shoulders and slim hips.  
“Loki,” he murmured, almost on an exhale, “I need to thank you. I was a petulant child when we ventured to Jotunnheim and you took the fall for it. You were injured by this journey of stupidity, forced into a form that we have been taught to loathe, and married to the man that has only been your brother. A marriage that will turn you into a creature that must carry the next heir to the throne of Asgard. It’s something neither of us wanted and yet, you stood by me today and sold your freedom for Asgard, for the prevention of war, for the betterment of our realms. For me. I know that words are not enough, but thank you, Loki.”  
The figure bowed it’s head in acknowledgement but did not respond.  
__________________________________________________________________  
Loki did not come to bed that night. He did not come to breakfast the following morning either. The new Frost Giant did not resurface before he was forced to leave to attend to his duties for the day. “Loki?” he called from the door, “Well, I’m not even sure if you’re even here right now, but I hope you have an enjoyable day. I also hope to see you later - even if it’s just your rather striking back.”  
He shut the door behind him with a solid click, wishing that, for all the worlds, he had not insisted on going to Jotunnheim. Then he would still have his brother.  
________________________________________________________________  
Hearing his new husband leave for the day, he entered from the balcony, relieved to be out of sun and it’s suddenly oppressive heat. The bed sheets were rumpled from Thor’s restless sleep. He sighed, already rolling his eyes at the fact that he would end up cleaning up after the big oaf for the rest of eternity. His hands, still the only parts of his body that he had seen, waved in front of him dismissively, the sheets falling into place.  
He sighed again, making his way from the bedroom to the private dining room, flinching every time his new toes claws struck the marble and skittered across it. He hated the sound, nearly as much as he loathed what he knew would be waiting for him on the table. Raw seafood, maybe some red meat, disgusting in every sense of the word. Maybe he could starve himself, put both himself and Thor out of their miseries.  
He shook his head, his forehead still throbbing as the horns continued their upward thrust out of his skull. He sat, closing his eyes so that he could ignore his body as it folded beneath him. Opening his sharper, and no doubt ruby eyes, he took in the spread before him. Sweet breads and fruits, a few leftover pastries and crumbs from his husband’s breakfast. Nothing he could eat, if Laufey’s lecture on living as a monster was to be believed. Starving it was, then. He refused to let anyone see him like this, including the gossipy staff.  
Closing his eyes, he stood again, and moved to the bathing chamber. Eyes still clamped shut, he shed his loincloth and felt his way to the tub. His feet, in their odd, deformed state, found their way down the steps into the golden tub. He hissed, both at his hideousness and at the too hot water as it slapped against his now icy body. He forced himself to bathe anyway, his vanity and pride still figuring prominently in his life despite his now monstrous form.  
_______________________________________________________________  
He had not meant to be caught within the confines of the apartment and yet, she had found him anyway. After a moment’s hesitation spent staring dumbfounded at the angular, cerulean figure with the startling scarlet eyes, she smiled tenderly at him. “Loki,” she murmured at the man frozen as if caught in the act of a crime, “My Darling boy.”  
He scowled at her, baring his incredibly wicked teeth. “I am not a darling, much less your boy,” he hissed angrily.  
“You will always be my child, Loki. The child I always wanted, the child I raised on my knee. The child that I tutored to a prince of whom I am very proud.” She took a step forward, reaching out to him. He stepped back, his eyes widening slightly in fear. “No matter that you’ve grown into a rather handsome Jotunn, you are my baby boy, Loki.” She stepped forward again, her hand connecting with his cheek.  
It was cold, but not dangerously so, and rough, like granite. Her thumb stroked a silvery scar, causing her child to shudder and inhale at the stimulation. “Please, Loki. Do not pull away from me.”  
The young god turned away, noticeably flinching with each step he took. “Stop,” she commanded and was surprised when the blue figure halted, back straight and proud, his thick curtain of hair, so much longer than it had ever been, skimming his waist. “Loki, look at me. Please.”  
The Frost Giant turned back, his head hanging. It drew her attention to the short bumps that were growing out of her youngest’s hairline. Pursing her lips tightly, she moved to him and wrapped her arms firmly around him. “Loki Friggason - I love you, my child. Please, let me help you.”  
The heavy, icy head dropped, coming to rest on her shoulder. “No one can help me,” he muttered into her gown.  
She brought a hand up to cradle the back of his head. “That is where you are wrong,” she whispered, turning her head and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Starting,” she stated cheerfully, “With these.”  
She stepped back and moved her hands to cover the short, grey keratin prominences that were thrusting upwards from the Jotunn’s brow. Murmuring a quick spell, she smiled at the young man. “Does that feel better?”  
He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Next,” she said, ushering the taller god into the dressing room, she pushed him gently in front of the mirrors. His eyes promptly squeezed themselves shut. “Loki,” she chided, “You need to see yourself. You cannot hide from your reflection. You are stronger than that, my brave boy.”  
The cold form beside her inhaled and slowly opened his eyes. Those same eyes obeyed her, a dutiful child until the end. His gaze began at his bare feet and slowly traversed his newly angular form in his awesome glory. “You are striking, Loki,” she smiled, rubbing the arm beside her, causing him to shiver again. “Anyone who does not agree with me is not worth your love.”  
“And what of Thor?”  
The question hung in the air between them, filled with dread.  
_____________________________________________________________________  
It had been a long day - one that he never wanted to relive. Despite Loki’s noted yet excused absence, the negotiations with Jotunnheim were well-underway. Laufey, angry due to his absence from his eldest child’s life and how said child was raised, was being particularly difficult. He demanded the Casket as well as the presence of Loki on Jotunnheim for four months out of the year, to continue his education in the ways of his forebears. Or, as he thought it was, to turn the new Frost Giant against the Aesir and everything he had ever known.  
“Loki?” he called as he entered the apartment. “Are you here?”  
“Yes.” The answer was soft and came from the library. His boots resonated loudly through the apartment as he strode towards his new spouse. He whipped around the corner and into the library quickly only to be stopped in his tracks.  
The being that stood before him was looking at him with wary ruby eyes, the iris a shade deeper than the rest of the eye. The red stood out from a rich azure face with emphasized cheekbones, traced with thin but intricate silvery lines. His eyes swept downward, drinking the rest of the lithe, cobalt form. Besides the color and the added claws and sharped angles, it looked like his brother. His eyes found the Frost Giant’s face again where the nervous and uneasy expression still lingered beneath two short horns and a curtain of ebony hair.  
Unable to find the words, after all, Loki was the one that possessed the silver tongue, he put his feelings, conflicting as they were, into action. He closed the distance between himself and the smaller man, opening his arms to pull the thinner body into his chest. Loki flinched, closing his eyes as if preparing for Mjölnir to come crashing against his skull. Frowning slightly, he stopped, his hands open, before dropping them heavily to his sides. “I would never hurt you, Loki,” he murmured, stroking one of the raised line of Loki’s shoulder. The other man shuddered, leaning into the touch. “Your my br-husband, and I love you.”  
Piercing ruby eyes raised to meet his sapphire pair. “You love me?” the voice of his once-brother whispered. He smiled.  
“Of course I do,” he whispered, his thumb still tracing the line on the other man’s shoulder. “We will make this work, Loki. It may not be today or tomorrow. This month, or this year, but we will be the couple that will finally unite the Nine. After all, I cannot ask for a better being to be beside me when I take the throne, a true partner in my life, as it’s always been.”  
________________________________________________________________  
It was four months later that necessity saw the consummation of the royal marriage. Until that time, Thor had been kind to him, treating him as if nothing had changed. As if he were still Aesir. After the first week, he had summoned up the courage to leave their shared apartment, always with Thor by his side. Eventually, he became more independent, wandering the gilded halls alone. His body eventually adjusted to the oppressive heat of Asgard, allowing him to spend sometime outside in his mother’s garden. Around month three, he ventured to the training ring during one of the times it was abandoned and taught himself to control his power to create and manipulate ice. It took time, nearly the entire month, but in the end, he was highly successful, his throwing knives replaced by flying ice daggers.  
He and Thor had opted to continue living as brothers, sharing their living quarters but neither sleeping nor bathing together. Loki spent his nights on the balcony, enjoying the cool, crisp night air on his sensitive skin while Thor kept the bed. They drew closer, but the discussion of any form of love beyond that of familial did not occur. No discussion of the heir that both beings knew was needed in order for the tempestuous treaty with Jotunnheim to hold.  
Then the Heat came. It crept along his limbs, blossoming from his groin. From the added organ that he had been ignoring since his form was revealed. The Heat spread, engulfing him in flame, in animalistic need, and in lust.  
Thor had left already, his early morning filled with time in the practice arena with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. It was Frigga, who came nearly every day for tea, who found him, moaning wantonly on the bed that he did not share with his husband.  
“Loki?” she asked, hesitantly, before hearing his moan in response. “LOKI!” she shouted, running to the bedroom and seeing him, naked and flushed purple with fever.  
“Thor,” he rasped, his throat dry.  
“I-I’ll go get him, Darling,” she murmured wiping his feverish brow with a gentle hand. “Please, hang in there.”  
_____________________________________________________________  
He beamed at the other man, his hands stroking the rounded blue dome before him. Loki had always been handsome, but, now, as his time neared, he was stunning. “I love you,” he murmured, leaning forward and kissing the expanse as his husband chuckled.  
“And I love you, Thor.” The words were a tender caress to his ears. “So very much.” His cool lips pressed against his forehead.  
“Daddy, Poppa!” A small, dark-haired boy scampered into the room as fast as his pale legs could carry him.  
“Calder,” Loki beamed, his fang-filled smile over-joyed to see their soon-to-be oldest. He had never suspected, all those years ago, that he and his then-brother would have be forced into a marriage. One, a Jotunn; the other, a rash and petulant prince, brought together through that first Heat.  
They had been children then, or so it seemed. Loki’s horns, mere inches of keratin at the time, had grown into beautiful arches, not dissimilar, though certainly less cumbersome, than his helm. The Jotunn and the Aesir were bound together in peace, the Casket returned to it’s rightful people and trade opened between the realms, Jotnar sushi becoming a delicacy of choice in many of the Nine.  
His husband’s claws ruffled the unruly curls that adorned Calder’s head playfully while his other hand rested over his own, the unborn babe shifting beneath his fingertips. All this joy and happiness that he felt blossomed from one act: An ill-conceived trip to Jotunnheim.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic here at AOOO! I'm super excited to share more of my stuff, so please comment and kudos!  
> As a heads up, I only post completed works - it drives me crazy waiting for others to post, so I write the stories as I see fit and post them in one swoop ;)


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